The Return
by D.A. Smith
Summary: *SPOILERS* Just after Moriarty came back, Molly faces a great danger. Her apartment has been bobby trapped and Moriarty himself paid her a visit. Why is he so insistent on Molly Hooper, the girl he thought never counted? Sherlock will protect her and even take her into his own home until, together, they can figure everything out.
1. Did you miss me, Molly?

I dropped the petri dish I'd been holding the moment I saw that face on the telly. That mischievous face smiling and a voice asking over and over again, "Did you miss me?" made every single cell of my body jump up with fright. My breath was uneven as I tried to make sense of this. How was he alive?! How could he be back?! He had shot himself and died on the roof I was standing under more than two years ago. Sherlock had seen it before his own eyes, pushing him to jump off the roof to protect his friends.

Sherlock didn't die, of course. It was all a magic trick. A magic trick I helped out in. Could it be possible that Moriarty had done exactly the same thing? And, more importantly, had he actually outwitted Sherlock?

After the initial shock had passed, I kneeled down and picked up what I could of the pieces of the dish. Jim was back. No one was safe.

"So, did you?" A voice coming from behind asked. I knew that voice. I hadn't heard it in probably four years. Even more. But I still remembered. The owner of that voice had taken me out to dinner. He had read my blog. He worked as an IT guy in this very hospital and invited me to lunch every day. He'd listened to my problems, and then I found out his interest wasn't more than lies.

Jim Moriarty.

I stood up with my back towards him and did not answer. I was shaking inside, but tried to keep composure and seem braver than I felt.

"Oh, come on, Molly. You _did _miss me. I bet your friend, Sherlock, missed me terribly, too." I did not respond and refused to turn around and face him, so I just stood there, listening. "No one to puzzle him, challenge him."

I could hear his footsteps. He was getting closer to me and a chill covered my body, from head to toe. I could feel his proximity. He giggled and said as if he just heard a really good joke, "Molly Hooper. The girl that counted. I must say, I'm impressed with the way Sherlock buries his feelings. I never thought he cared about you at all." He laughed and said in a singy-songy voice "My mistake."

I'm guessing he turned around because his footsteps were going the other way, and his voice did not seem as close. I finally gathered enough courage to face him and turned. There he was, a few feet away in his perfectly ironed suit and his hands behind his back, smiling at me. "What do you want?" My voice sounded cracked and weak. I didn't mean for that to happen, but it did. So much for my courage.

"What do _I _want?" He said holding his laughter. "I want to play, Molly, with every single piece I've got. And this time, no mistakes." He smiled at me and then burst out laughing. "And by mistakes, I mean you. You were the big mistake in this whole thing. The variable I just did not see. Let the games begin!" He did a reverence and left.

Trying to catch my breath, I reached for my left pocket on my lab coat. I took my cellphone out and dialed Sherlock's number. It rang three times and then he answered sounding annoyed, "Not now, Molly, I'm kind of busy."

"He was here." I muttered.

I could hear his respiration for a few seconds and then he hanged up.


	2. Ill Timing

Half an hour passed until Sherlock came into the lab, looking everywhere but me. John Watson was right behind him, seeming more worried than Sherlock ever would. Still, I knew Sherlock's manners, and I could tell that he, too, was preoccupied. If he wasn't, he wouldn't have come over in the first place. That's the thing with Sherlock. He never shows his feelings because he thinks they are in the way, but the moment he thinks no one is looking, his face can say more than his mouth could.

"Are you okay, Molly?" John asked walking towards me.

I was sitting on my stool in front of the microscope and had been for the last half hour. I can't tell what I'd being doing, I just remember sitting there, looking at the door. "Yes, John, thank you." I smiled weakly.

Sherlock kept examining the table where some blood samples where resting, as if he'd noticed something. Sherlock had this ability to deduce everything you can think of by just observing. He could tell you your whole life story by just looking at your watch or the wrinkles in your clothes. He knew everything about the human race, and yet lacked some basic knowledge like the fact that the Earth revolved around the sun, or when someone was flirting with him.

"Molly, you can't go back to your loft." He said, finally taking his eyes off the counter and looking at me.

"What? Why?!"

"He bobby trapped it."

Startled, I asked him the obvious question, "How do you know?"

"He left traces of trinitrotoluene next to your blood samples. Traces of dynamite next to blood in _your _lab wasn't much of a leap there. I've got to say, I'm a little offended by that simple clue, unless he plans on something bigger. Anyhow, you can't return to your home."

"Well, I guess I can go to my friend Lila's place. I'll stay there for a few days,"

Sherlock sighed and looked down to the floor. For the first time ever, I saw Sherlock Holmes embarrassed. "You need to come stay with me."

"WHAT?" John and I exclaimed at the same time.

"I can't leave you alone while that maniac is out there. He'll come after you, I guarantee it."

I nodded and told him exactly what Moriarty had said.

Sherlock looked at me without making a single expression. His face was plain. "You'll stay at Baker Street in John's room. End of discussion."

I smiled. He kept calling it John's room even though John had moved out some time ago. But still, I couldn't move in with Sherlock Holmes. I don't think my heart could make it. I'd had a massive crush on him and I think there are some residues of it. I can't look at him and not feel all those butterflies in my stomach fly as if they were on fire. Just looking into his eyes made my brain go blank. I'd learned to live with it, but I hadn't learned to live with _him. _And I know that if I saw him every single day, from the moment I woke up to the moment I fell asleep, all the progress I'd made to forget about him would vanish.

I could barely live with myself two years ago when Sherlock had stayed over for two days when he faked his death. And it was just two days.

"What about Toby?" I asked. Toby was my dog. I could not, and would not, leave him behind.

"Don't worry about Toby. I'll come pick you up after work." He turned around and left, John by his side.

Seemed like everything I ever wanted was happening right now, at this very moment. I would live with Sherlock Holmes. He would come pick me up after work. He protected me and actually showed that he cared.

And it seemed he picked the worst time to do that. Right when I was forgetting him, all of this happened. Talk about ill timing.


	3. Blind

The clock chimed six, and I was getting ready to go. I took off my lab coat and got into my brown jacket and colorful scarf. I love scarves, I really do. I think I have like fifteen different pairs in so many different colors. But this scarf, the all colored one, is my favorite. I've had so many memories with it.

Like the first time I met Sherlock.

I shook off the memory and pushed myself out the door. Was I really going to go over to Baker Street? Really? I was beginning to doubt it. I'd rather go over to Lila's. She could lend me clothes until the police could defuse the trap that was set up for me and I could go back home.

So, I decided to go to my friend's home and send Sherlock a message saying _thank you for your offer but I decline. _

Yes, I am a coward.

As the automatic doors opened, an animal jumped to me, almost making me fall down. "Toby?!" I cried happily. Toby barked and wigged his tail really happy to see me. He ran back and I saw Sherlock standing there, with his hands in his pockets. "How did you get him out?"

"Easily. You have a doggy door to your patio. I just jumped from your neighbor's balcony onto yours, got Toby to come out by calling him and offering a treat, and jumped with him to your downstairs neighbor backyard, who was more than happy to kick me out of his property."

Toby barked again and I giggled. "Thanks!" I said with a huge smile on my face. I couldn't help it. This kind gesture from him made me so happy.

"Shall we?" Sherlock handed me a dog leash (it wasn't Toby's, I guess he bought it) and started walking. I sighed and followed him, dragging the happy Toby along.

When we got to Baker Street, Mrs. Hudson received me with joy and offered to get me pijamas and some extra clothes. I thanked her and accepted her kind offer and the lady walked down the stairs gleefully.

When she was gone, I let Toby out of his leash and asked Sherlock, who was sitting on his favorite couch, if he wanted dinner. He looked at me through the corner of his eye and I tried to fix my statement so he could see I wasn't asking him out on a date. "I can cook something to eat. It's the least I can do."

"Do whatever you want, Molly." He then pressed his palms together and put them in front of his chin. I've seen him do this lots of times. It meant he was thinking and analyzing a situation.

I took his answer as a yes and headed over to the fridge. I shrieked the moment I saw what was inside it. "You have a hand in here!"

"Why are you surprised? You gave it to me."

That was true. I pushed the hand aside and took out milk and ham. He didn't have a lot of stuff in his fridge, just mayonnaise and juice, the hand, milk, ham and cheese. I figured I'd just prepare simple sandwiches and go grocery shopping tomorrow.

I chuckled. I was making plans as if I was going to stay a long time. "Sherlock, did Lestrade tell you anything about the bomb in my apartment?"

"They're trying to defuse it but apparently the wires lead inside the walls." He sounded bored by my question, so I just stopped trying to make conversation and focused on the sandwiches.

Mrs. Hudson came back with blue, stripped pijamas and a blouse for the next day. "I'll leave the clothes here, dear."

"Thanks Mrs. Hudson."

"Oh, my. This is so exciting. Sherlock hasn't had a girl over since his fiancée. What was her name? Janine?"

I almost choked at that remark. "Fiancee?!"

"She was my fiancée for all of 3 hours. She was just a play for a case. Then I got shot, and killed a guy. Now, both of you shush so I can think what the hell Moriarty is planning to do."

I returned to the sandwiches, really taken aback. Could he really be that cold to propose to a girl just for a case?

My phone beeped. I had received a text from a restricted number. I opened it and saw a bunch of periods all over my screen.

"Sherlock?" I called and walked to him. He just grunted in response. "Look."

I showed him and his face lit up. "It's Braille! The game is on!" He took out his computer and searched something on the web. "It says, 'Where is Katie?' Who's Katie?"

I gulped as tears formed in my eyes. Katie. "My sister."


	4. Valentine's

_**D.A Smith:**_Hello to everyone! Thank you so much to you who have made it this far! I can't believe people are actually reading and subscribing and reviewing and everything! It's just so...surreal. I won't lie, I haven't stopped smiling for the last two days, so thank you all! I really hope you are enjoying the story . It's my first time writing fanfictions and it seems my hands are not connected to my brain and just write what they want. So thank you all and please post a review or suggestions. I swear I read them and your opinion will just improve any future writing! :D

**CHAPTER 4**

"Sister? You don't have a sister." He was clearly shocked. I could see in his eyes he was trying to figure out if it was true or not, if he knew it and just forgot.

"I don't...now. I used to. She died." I looked down to the floor. I can't say I remember her or miss her. She was way older than me by eight years. I just remember her being there and then, out of the blue, she was gone. I remember the funeral. I remember I cried my eyes out. I remember all of that, I just couldn't remember her and those small details you are supposed to remember.

I guess the age difference really affected our relationship. She sometimes played with me, but she had other stuff in her mind, like school and the boy she used to date. The one she was with when she died. I can't even remember his name. My parents mentioned him constantly after she was gone, claiming he was to be blamed for what happened. I guess, when you lose a child, you want to blame everyone, anyone. They even blamed themselves for a time. But, after a few years, they acknowledged that what happened was nothing more than an accident and were able to move on.

Sherlock smiled and said really excited, "Perfect!" I just rolled my eyes. He is so insensitive. "We'll go where Katie is! I presume she is in a graveyard. Possibly St. John's. Am I wrong?" Before I could answer, he said, "Of course I'm not." He pulled up his coat's collar and headed for the door.

"What does Katie have to do with Jim?"

"I don't know. Doesn't that intrigue you?"

I sighed and followed him.

We took a cab and arrived at the cemetery in 25 min. There's was a lot of traffic, but in all that time, Sherlock didn't say a word, which was weird. I guided him to her tombstone. It's been a long time since I've been here, and it still feels as if I have just recently left the flowers over her tomb. They were now dry.

Sherlock took out his lamp and inspected the engraving on the tomb. "She died on Valentine's day." He noted and I nodded. She was coming back from having dinner with her boyfriend when a drunk man crashed his car onto theirs by the passenger seat and took them off the road. He left them there, and we never knew who it was.

"She was sixteen and died on Valentine's Day. Someone's been here recently, even though she died a long time ago and there is no more family than yourself." He lighted the ground around our feet and crouched, looking at the dirt and what seemed to be a footstep. He took a silver key from the ground and put it in his left pocket. "It couldn't be a friend of hers. A long time has passed, and even her own sister seldom comes to visit. The footprint clearly states this is a man, probably in his late-fifties due to the short step from one footprint to another." He showed me the other footprint a few inches away from the first one. "You can tell he has a bad hip by his manner of walking, plus there are signs of a cane just to the top right of the print. If it wasn't friends or family who were here, then who was it? It can't be a worker, since the shoe pattern is really well printed on the soil to suggest that the man in question stood there for a long time."

He stood up and looked at me, lighting my face with his lamp. "Your sister died in a traffic accident, didn't she?"

Impressed, I nodded. "How did you come to that conclusion?"

"Because I think we have someone who wants a clean conscience. This man probably is dying and is trying to seek redemption. Molly, Moriarty wants to lead us to your sister's killer. He probably helped him to not be found, threw off the investigation. After all, Moriarty _is _a criminal consultant."

"The police never even came close to finding the person responsible." I added. Why would Moriarty want to do this?

"When you were dating, did you ever mention your sister to him?"

"No." I have never talked about my sister to anyone. It just feels too personal.

Sherlock took a sample from the ground and poured it inside a Ziplock bag he had inside his coat. "Well, we will find him."

My phone rang. It was a restricted number again. The text read: _Remember Columbine, Molly. Act fast. _And a picture of dynamite with a timer that said 25. Below the timer was a small key hole.

Alarmed, Sherlock took my shoulders and asked, "You were homeschooled, weren't you?!"

"Yes!" I replied. He knew that. That's the first deduction he ever took regarding me.

"He's going to bomb the university."

I gasped. The university was at the other side of town. And we had the key to defuse the bomb.


	5. Memories

_**D.A. Smith:**_Thank you for reading! I swear it will get better from here on. I have a lot of ideas that should keep things interesting.

**CHAPTER 5**

Ever since I've known him, and that's a long time, I've come to learn three things about Sherlock Holmes that are a fact.

1) He likes his coffee black, two sugars.

2) There is nothing more important to him than to be entertained. If he gets bored he is capable of anything.

3) He doesn't care what other people think. He doesn't care. That's why it didn't surprise me when he stopped a guy in a motorcycle mid-street, made him step down and practically stole his bike for him and me to ride.

He drove the stolen motorbike full speed. I won't deny I felt I was on a cloud when I realized I had to wrap my arms around Sherlock's waist, or when the wind let me smell his hair without looking creepy, but I was more worried about the university. Sure, it was night and there were probably not many people in, maybe even no one was there, but it was _my_ university, where I had done my studies and … it was important to me. I didn't want it to explode. I didn't want anyone to get hurt, either.

I just sounded egocentric, didn't I?

Sherlock drove so recklessly, I didn't have time to think anymore. He went down stairs, subway stations, parks, gardens. I think I don't think he ever used a street, which is good since we were going against time. I don't even know how he did it, but we got to the university within 20 minutes.

The restricted number sent me an image with more dynamite and the message 5. "Five minutes, Sherlock."

He looked around. He had parked in the heart of the university, right in the middle of buildings. "Molly, you must know by now that this game he is playing is all about you. Think! What room is important to you? Where would he put the bomb?"

"How would I know?!" I replied, even though I thought of one room in particular.

"You thought of a room, didn't you?" He said and I took a step back. "Which one is it, Molly? We have to stop it."

"Bell Hall 243." I muttered a little shy.

"What?!"

"Bell Hall 243!"

"_That_ room?! Why would it be important to you?!"

I smirked. "Isn't it obvious?" I looked down for a moment, really embarrassed, and suddenly remembering we couldn't afford to be sentimental, I looked back at him. "Let's go!"

We ran to the room, passing buildings and entering Bell Hall. We went up the stairs and found 243. We entered. It was so long since I'd been here. Sherlock didn't need me to tell him exactly where I thought the bomb was. He knew.

About 12 years ago, I was sitting in this room, in exactly the same seat Sherlock was now examining, wearing this exact same scarf. It was the first day of class and Biochemistry was to be taught here. I was sitting on my seat, really excited to start writing on my brand new notebook, looking around at my new classmates. The seat by my side was then occupied by a guy with ruffled, dark hair and bright blue eyes. He had his coat's collar up and his arms crossed seeming really bored.

He exhaled in exasperation. "You were homeschooled, weren't you?"

"I'm sorry, are you talking to me?" I was surprised. He hadn't even taken a proper look at me.

"Yes. You were homeschooled. A family member just died, probably your father. You are still mourning him, but are really mad at your mom for moving on too quickly. You just hate her new boyfriend."

Totally shocked, I replied "How did you know all that?"

"I knew you were homeschooled because you seem really excited even though this is a junior class. No one above sophomore is that excited to take a class unless it's still really new to them or they are passionate about the subject. Your notebook implies you haven't studied the second option is not plausible.

I knew your father died because you have his picture as a wallpaper. How did I knew he was your father, you ask? Well, he looks like you. Can't be a brother. And how about your mom? Well, the text she just sent said, 'Please sweetie, don't be mad at me for moving on.' "

I looked down and saw my nokia cellphone displaying my mom's message. I must have accidentally opened it. "That is…amazing." I said.

The professor didn't think his abilities were as amazing as I did. The guy deducted the professor's wife was cheating on him in front of the whole class and got kicked out for the lecture. I thought it was funny.

That's why when I saw him outside, sitting on a bench with his feet up the table, I approached the guy and said, "I think you have really remarkable abilities but are kind of a show off."

"Well, yeah, that's my thing, Molly. I'm awesome but people generally think I'm an asshole."

I was about to reply when I noticed something. "How did you know my name?"

"It's on your bag. Molly H."

I smiled. Way too obvious. "You know my name. What's yours?"

He looked at me with those bright blue eyes and said, "Sherlock Holmes."

"Molly!" Sherlock cried. "The key won't fit!"

"That's because I have a deal!"

The voice came from somewhere in front of us, we couldn't see where. But we knew whose voice it was. Moriarty was here.


	6. Rules

_**D.A. Smith:**_So here we are. This is the reason I started writing all of this. Hope you like it. And I'd love to hear your response to the little "riddle" at the end. What is that sickness?

**CHAPTER 6**

I got a goose bump that ran through my whole body. He was around here, somewhere, but we couldn't see him.

"What kind of deal?" Sherlock replied, fierce and loud. His deep voice gave that simple sentence a dark and creepy tone. Even I got scared.

"A game. Nothing more than a game." He was almost singing. I could tell he was really enjoying this.

"Why would we play a game with you?"

"Because you'll enjoy it, Sherlock. You'll save lives. And because if you don't play, this whole campus goes down."

No one said anything for a few moments until the lights turned on in a single movement. Moriarty was standing right in front of a podium, acting as if he was the professor in this class, grinning with joy and satisfaction. He was holding in his right hand a thing that looked like a flashlight, if it wasn't for the fact that at the top of it there was a red button. "Listen TO ME! Class will start."

Sherlock and I looked at each other and both sat down in our old seats. We knew that if we didn't listen, he would press the button and maybe blow this whole thing up, and we didn't know if the university was empty.

"Ok, class. We'll play a really cool game I'd like to call _Sherlock will lose. Sherloose, _for short. Here are the rules. Rule number one: If any of you, at any time, decide not to play, school will blow up. Of course, I'll make sure there are students around. It wouldn't be fun otherwise, would it?"

Neither Sherlock nor I responded.

"Rule number two. No telling the police. Molly's apartment was just practice. This bomb is my pride. Anything you touch, will set the whole thing off. And there are bombs everywhere inside this walls. You don't want that? Don't tell the police. If you do, I'll press this little button. And, trust me, I'll know if you do.

"Rule number three. You two will live together. At least for six months. That's the reason I bobby trapped Molly's apartment in the first place. I wanted her with you. Of course, you already knew that, didn't you, Sherlock? Plus, it will make surveillance a whole lot easier.

"Rule number four. Molly, you can't move out. If you do, do you know what will happen?

I gulped. "You'll set the whole thing off."

"BOOM!" He exclaimed throwing his hands in the air. "And finally, Sherlock, a question for you. What's the only sickness that can actually kill you while staying alive? You must know this, I've been sending out clues all night."

Sherlock did not reply, but looked as though he knew exactly what Moriarty was talking about.

"If you get infected, you lose and she," he pointed at me, "along with all those little students trying to learn, will die."

Sherlock laughed. "That will be easy. She won't move out and I won't get infected. If we win, what will we get? What happens to you?"

"I turn myself in. Get myself executed. For reals, this time. You can watch. I'm so tired to live in hiding. You can do whatever you want with me." He winked. "But if you lose…BOOM!"

The lights turned off and on again, but Moriarty was gone. We could hear him like before, though. He just said, "Wasn't that a kickass exit?"

Sherlock sighed. "So I guess we're roommates, now?"

"Are we seriously going to play this?" I asked.

"It's the only way to catch him and we will prevent the university from exploding. We just have to win and he _will _turn himself in. It's a game."

I really didn't want to live with him for so long. Six months was a really long time, but there was no other choice. I knew he would blow up everything. But seeing Sherlock every day, knowing nothing would ever happen between us would kill me. Which made me ask, "What was the sickness he was talking about?"

He looked at me with those eyes that made me melt and replied, "The important thing is I'll _try _not to get infected."


	7. Hurt

**CHAPTER 7 **

We were back at Baker Street, neither of us saying a word. The moment we came in, Sherlock said, "Good night," and locked himself in his room without looking back. Toby jumped when Sherlock's door closed, waking him up from sleeping on the couch. I smiled, petted him and told him to follow me to John's room. It would be our new room now.

I changed into the pijamas Mrs. Hudson had been so kind to lend me and got into bed, Toby sleeping by my side. I stared at the roof for God knows how long until I fell asleep. I have to stay here, doesn't matter how hard it gets, or how hurt I might be. I have to sleep here every night for the next six months.

I woke up hearing voices out of my room. There were people in the living room. I opened the bedroom door just an inch to be able to hear more clearly. I could hear Sherlock explaining last night's events in his monotonous voice, and saying that I will have to move here for the next six months.

"But, what did he mean infected? What is this sickness?" It was John Watson who asked. And I was glad he asked. That was the question that had been bothering me all last night.

"John, you can deduce it. A girl who died in Valentine's Day? A message for the blind? This sickness can kill you while you're still breathing. It can blind you while you see. You've suffered from it."

I tried to look out the door and saw John nodding in understanding. "You can't fall in love with her."

"I _must not _fall in love with her." Sherlock corrected. My heart jumped and I took a step back while Sherlock continued, "Moriarty knows Molly plays a very important role in my life and is trying to take advantage of it."

"But _not _falling in love must come easy to you. I mean, you are Sherlock Holmes."

"That's the game, John. That's exactly the game. And Moriarty is pretty sure I will lose." There was something in his voice that didn't make sense. He didn't sound as energetic as other times when there was something to do.

"Do you think you will lose?"

"It doesn't matter what I think, John. I can't lose, and I won't. I must push Molly away."

"That will hurt her."

"Which in turn, hurts me too. See the brilliance in this?"

I sat on the bed and analyzed what I had just heard. They kept chatting, but I didn't listen anymore. I saw, with more clarity, what Jim had done. Before I met Moriarty, I used to keep a blog. In it, I mentioned Sherlock, and my huge, unrequited crush. He obviously read it. He got close to me, asked me about him and how I knew him and for how long. Due to our long acquaintance, he thought he could get to Sherlock through me, and then noticed I didn't really mattered to him. So he left me.

And then came the fall. Sherlock stayed with me. I helped him. Moriarty probably knew this and maybe that's why he thought I mattered.

Wait.

Irene Adler. I remember she flirted with Sherlock and he never responded to her. But, according to John, she remains as one of the most important women in Sherlock's life. I remember he even x-rayed her cellphone. Could it be that the women most important to him are the ones he tries to push away? Like Irene Adler? Could it be that's why Moriarty invented this little game with me at the center of it?

Then, that means he could someday feel something for me. Moriarty thought so. I must confess, that if my assumption is right, Moriarty planned this really well. He ended up hurting us both. I sighed.

Now, more than ever, I must accept that Sherlock and I are never going to be a couple. We can't. As dramatic as it sounds, lives depend on this. So, I must live with the man I love while trying to make him _not _love me back.

I opened the door and called Toby to take him out to pee. "Good morning," I greeted while I walked, with Toby by my side, through the living room. "Just taking him out to pee."

"Hello, Molly." John greeted with a smile. Sherlock looked everywhere but me. "I'll have to get used to see you around here."

"Trust me, John, I'll have get used to be here." I smiled and took the dog out. I'll have to get used to everything. Get ready for more rejections from Sherlock's part, seeing him every single day. Taking a different tube to go to work. Human parts in the refrigerator.

_I can make it, _I thought. _I'll just try get rid of my infection. _


	8. Max

_**D.A Smith:**_Not a lot of Sherlock here :S Sorry. Thanks for sticking with me! :)

**CHAPTER 8**

The day progressed as a normal day should, even though it was a totally new experience. I took a shower and used Sherlock's shampoo. It hit me right then and there that I had to buy new stuff if my apartment kept on being threatened. Moriarty only said my apartment served as a test, but it was still bobby trapped. I had to buy new clothes, shampoo, underwear, and pretty much everything essential for living here.

I stepped out of the shower, changed into Mrs. Hudson's clothes, brushed and tied my hair into a ponytail and finally went to the kitchen. I remembered Sherlock had nothing in the refrigerator and had to go grocery shopping. "Sherlock, would you mind going grocery shopping? I have to go to work." I waited for a reply, but none came. "Sherlock?"

I walked to the living room to take a look, but it was empty. No sign of either Sherlock or John. I shrugged, took the sandwich I prepared last night, which I found next to a really cold thumb, and ate it rapidly. I was already late.

I ran to catch a tube, but missed it by a few seconds and had to wait for the next one. I ran as fast as I could and got to St. Bart's barely in time to clock in. "Sweetie, what happened?" Clara, the head of the forensic analysis department, asked really preoccupied when she saw me in the hallway. I was trying to catch by breath by putting my hands on my knees.

"Ran late." I replied between breaths.

"Well, that's so unlike you."

I smiled and said it would never happen again.

"By the way," Clara said in a lower tone, "the new pathologist, really cute by the way, came in today but I had nowhere to place him in. The lab on the second floor is still leaking gas. So I told him he could be in your lab and you two could share, do you mind?"

I shook my head. "It's fine."

"Great! Have a nice day!"

"You too!"

I had completely forgotten about the new pathologist. After Anderson got fired, I had been getting a large amount of work until someone else took his place. For one part I was relieved there wasn't as much work as there had been lately. But, for the other part, that meant I could go home earlier, and that meant go to Baker Street. Not my actual home.

I got to the lab, took off my scarf and jacket and started putting on my lab coat when someone greeted me gleefully. "Molly Hooper!" I turned to face the friendly voice and found a face I hadn't seen in over five years.

"Max?!" I asked really surprised and pleased to see him. He had his arms open wide, so I went to them and hugged him. "You're the new pathologist?!"

"Yes! And you're the head of this lab?! This world is so small!"

I giggled. I couldn't believe he was standing in front of me. It had been so long. "So, what have you been up to?"

"Well, after we broke up I've traveled, mostly to the east end. I went to Japan and India. I stayed in Africa for a while volunteering…" He told me everything he had done and it was really cool. I was really happy for him. We talked like old friends and didn't feel awkward at all. Yes, he was my ex, but he was so easy to talk to I forgot that small detail.

When he asked me what _I _was up to, I thought about saying, _"Well, I dated Moriarty, the guy that broke into the most guarded place in England and the most dangerous man ever. Yeah, I dated him, but I'm actually in love with a high functioning sociopath named Sherlock, who just shot and killed a man but was forgiven because they need him to get to my ex. I am now living with him." _

But, of course, I ended up saying with a smile, "Nothing much. Just work."

He gulped and looked at me, all shy and innocent, "I thought about you a lot. I've missed you."

"I missed you too."

The door opened and a new body was introduced to the lab. We got to work, but of course, we kept talking about our lives and everything and anything.

"Hey, you know who I've seen lately all over the news? Remember that dude that knew everything about your life with just one look back in college? Apparently, he is some kind of celebrity now."

I smiled. I couldn't help it. "I'm kind of living with him." He frowned. "Not in _that _way. Never in that way. It's just until some problems with my apartment get solved."

"So, you're single?"

I hesitated for a moment and replied, "Yes."

"Would you go on a date with me?"

I was taken aback. People say that trying to get back together with an ex is like trying to put toothpaste back into the tube. At least, that's what Lila says, but due to the circumstances, due to my desired to be cured, I think it's fine to try. I was about to respond when the door flew open and Sherlock came in. "I need your microscope!"


	9. Rebounds

**CHAPTER 9**

I took a moment to recover from that dramatic entrance, then I replied a mumbled, "Sure," but Sherlock was already walking to the microscope and sitting on the stool, taking some clear glass slides.

"Uh, Sherlock, this is Max. Remember him?"

He didn't even turn to look at him but said a simple "Nop".

I just looked at Max and he seemed to be cool with it. "He was in our Biochemistry class."

"Oh, of course." He replied sounding as if he could care less, still not looking at him. "How's the wife?"

Max seemed agitated and nervous. "We just got a divorce." After a moment of silence, he asked, "How did you know?"

"The tan on your ring finger. Suggests you recently took the ring off, and were living on a sunny place. Why would you move back to England when you used to live out of it? Running away from something? The wife? No ring. Tanned. Divorced."

Max was wide-eyed and muttered so only I could hear, "He creeps me out. He never even looked at me."

"Wrong." Sherlock said in his particular mocking tone, still looking through the microscope. "Now, could you please let me work?"

I mouthed a _sorry _to Max and kept on working on my thing. Max seemed to be extremely uncomfortable, but followed my lead and worked quietly. The room became unbearably silent, so quiet, I could actually hear everyone's respiration. It wasn't until Max decided to make small talk, the silence was broken completely.

"So," Max started, looking at Sherlock, "I hear you and Molly are living together."

"Yes."

I could tell Max expected something more to go on, but Sherlock didn't say anything else, to which Max asked, "So, how is it going with that?"

"Don't try to make small talk, Mike."

"It's Max." he mumbled. "I need to get some papers signed. I'll be right back." He stepped out with his head low, looking at the papers as he disappeared through the door.

I turned to Sherlock and snapped, "You don't have to be so rude!"

"That's the way I am Molly." I rolled my eyes. "Plus," he continued, "He wants you to be his rebound."

"And, what's the problem?" In my mind, it was fine if I was his rebound. He was to be mine.

"You don't deserve to be anyone's rebound." He took his gaze away from the microscope to place it on me. I was speechless. That could be the sweetest thing he'd ever- "Maybe the mistress, but not the rebound,"

Never mind. He ruined the moment. "So you're saying I should not go out with him because he still loves his wife."

"He's still hurt by his wife. She left him. So, it's just natural he wants to prove her wrong by dating other women. And you are an easy prey, being his ex."

"You said you did not remember him." I said smiling.

"I do not. I deduced it. Plus, I overheard you at the door."

I could not believe it. "You were spying on me?! How much did you hear?"

"Just the last part, really. I really needed the microscope and was not interested on how much you too missed each other." He turned his attention back to the microscope. If I didn't know better, I'd think he was jealous. But, as much as I hoped, he couldn't be.

He can't be in love with me and I need to move on. I did not think there was any other way better than for me to actually move on. I'd tried so many times before, Moriarty being one relationship that ended really badly. Tom, being a relationship that was really good, even turning into an engagement, but which ended on bad terms.

I still couldn't believe how it ended with Tom. It was the day of John and Mary's wedding. We were back in my apartment, talking about our own wedding and kissing. He took off my dress and I took his shirt off. As things got hotter, he said, "Molly," and I said, "Sherlock". Stupid mistake. Right then and there, I could finally see what Lila had been telling me. Tom looked a lot like Sherlock.

Of course, Tom was mad and wanted an explanation. I said I was sorry, but he wanted to know why precisely his name. I ended up confessing my crush but trying to clear the fact that I was over him. He didn't believe me, and our engagement was off.

So, jumping into a new relationship seemed risky. It could possibly not work out. And, yet, I had dated Max before I had my crush on Sherlock. Maybe those feelings could come back. Maybe this is what I need. Someone who was there, in my heart, before Sherlock was.

"He asked me out." I blurted out. Sherlock did not even flinch. "I think I'll go out with him."

"I tried to do you a favor by telling you he wanted a rebound."

"I know."

"Fine."


	10. Boxes

**CHAPTER 10**

Sherlock left half an hour after our little chat, but said I wouldn't go back to Baker Street alone. He was right. He sent John out to get me. I shook my head when I saw him and chuckled, "You don't have to do this, you know?"

"I know. But I want to. We can't be too careful with Moriarty lurking the streets."

He had a point there. He stopped a cab and we both entered the back seats. "How's Mary?" I asked, trying to make conversation.

"Really pregnant. And moody."

"I can just imagine." We chatted all the way over to Baker Street. He was telling me about the decorations for the baby's room and names they had picked out until John said, "Talking about babies, did something happen at St. Bart's?"

"What do you mean?" The cab had just stopped in front of 221B Baker Street.

"Well," John looked uncomfortable, looking at his hands on his lap. "Sherlock was just weird today, that's all."

"Isn't he always?"

"I guess," He replied with a forced smile and stepped off the cab. I pushed my door open and got off the cab too while John paid the driver.

I stood in front of the building staring at the door for a few moments. So many times I'd come here with butterflies in my stomach, and now I _lived_ here. It was a weird feeling. I turned the knob, opened the wooden door and entered with John Watson behind me. Mrs. Hudson's light was on, but she didn't come out. John and I just went up the staircase in a fast pace.

Max was supposed to pick me up at 8 to go to dinner and I, literally, had nothing to wear. If I had my own clothes, I think I would have worn my floral skirt. Also, I wanted to take another shower so I could take the smell of death away. But, thinking it through, he might smell like the same thing. We both worked in the morgue. Still, I should take one.

I smirked as I opened the door, but it soon vanished when I saw the boxes. There were boxes everywhere, labeled _Clothes to wear, Clothes to throw away, Books, Sentimental stuff you shouldn't really keep but still do so. _"What is this?" I managed to say despite the surprise.

"Turns out the key you found at your sister's grave was to defuse the bomb in your apartment." John explained with his hands behind his back. "We took the opportunity to take stuff out in case Moriarty decided to bomb the place again. Sorry if anything's missing."

"It's fine," I replied really touched at the gesture. "Thank you."

"You should follow the labels, Molly. You own some hideous garments of clothing." Sherlock said with his eyes closed as he laid down on his couch. His hands were clasped together to the height of his chin.

"Thanks," I replied unsure. "Really, thank you, guys." I walked to the box labeled _Clothes to wear, _picked it up and took it to my room.

John helped me with the one that said _Clothes to throw away. _

"Why is it labeled like that?" I asked him once we were out of earshot.

"You know how he is." He rolled his eyes and left the room.

I opened the box and, right at the top, was my favorite black dress. I had used it the Christmas before Sherlock "died". He had found out that night about my crush thanks to a "perfectly wrapped gift". Below that dress was a beautiful floral skirt.

Really confused, I looked into the box labeled _Clothes to wear. _Inside were plain t-shirts and polo shirts. Jeans and sport pants. Sherlock didn't want to see me all prettied up, I could tell. I took the floral skirt and one nice shirt and started getting ready for my date tonight.

I stayed in my room until Max came to pick me up. I knew there were people in the living room, but I guessed there was a reason the skirt I wanted to wear was in the _throw away _box. Finally, I heard the doorbell and ran out to meet Max, but it was too late. He'd already come up.

John greeted him really cordial. Sherlock merely grunted, as he was still lying on his couch. "You look really beautiful, Molly." Max whispered in my ear as I greeted him.

"Told you not to wear that," Sherlock said without looking up.

I rolled my eyes, but couldn't help to smile, "Shall we?" Max took my hand and we headed for the door. "Bye, guys!" I waved my hand behind me with a grin.

The door was shut, but I could clearly hear John say "You could at least…"

"He really creeps me out. He's like Dracula." Max interrupted my eavesdropping as we walked downstairs.

"I know. He is really…something." Max opened the door for me and we were out.


	11. The Skull

_**D.A. Smith : Sorry. Made some mistakes in here last night. Not big mistakes, just like spelling and I ate up a word, but it somehow changed the context of stuff. I was sleepy but still wanted to post something. I've been posting every single day and didn't want to lose that rhythm. Anyhow, hope you've liked the story so far. I received a review saying that she imagined Jim eating popcorn while watching what was happening with Sherlock/ Molly/ Max. I must say I imagine him like that too xD. But he will make a move...soon. **_

**CHAPTER 11 **

My date with Max was…good? Normal? I really don't know what word to use. It was…fine. We went to grab dinner at this cute little place that had a terrace. We were eating outside, by the candle light, a violin was playing as background music. If I had been someone else looking at us, I might have thought it was pretty romantic. But I did not.

I don't know what is wrong with me. He was so charming, as he had always been. He pulled my chair out and helped me in. He asked me about my day, even though he was there most of the time, so he just asked about my life. I told him I had been engaged with Tom but broke the commitment off because of "differences". He told me about his wife and their own differences.

I think I felt it more like a catching up kind of thing than a date. But still, I enjoyed his company really much. He hasn't changed much since we dated. He is still the same energetic guy who ran every morning and cooked dinner every night. The guy who loved to read and write. He's the same guy I fell for, but it wasn't doing much for me now.

Maybe I'd changed.

He took a cab with me to drop me off at Baker Street and walked me to the door. He looked into my eyes and said he'd had a wonderful time. I smiled and replied that I did too and that's when it happened. He started closing his eyes and lifting his lips, to which I panicked and said, "Well, good night! See you tomorrow!" and entered the building, leaving him outside. Instantaneously, right after the door closed behind me, I moaned with regret and let myself fall on the floor with my back on the wooden door. I knew I had screwed up really bad.

"Molly, dear, is that you?" Mrs. Hudson called from her apartment.

"Yes, Mrs. Hudson!" I replied back, with my voice loud and clear. She came out of her home with a key on her palm, showing it to me.

"Sorry I couldn't give them to you earlier. Here are the keys to your flat and to the main door." Then, looking at how I was sitting on the floor with grievance and regret, she asked me if I was all right.

"I'm fine, Mrs. Hudson. Thanks for asking. It's just…" I passed my hands through my hair, thinking on how to say what I wanted to say, "I'm so awkward with people. It's frustrating."

"Maybe that's why you only work with dead people, dear."

I chuckled. Probably that was the reason. "I guess. Thanks." I stood up, tried to straighten out my skirt and started going up the stairs, "Good night, Mrs. Hudson!"

"Good night, dear!"

I entered the flat cautiously, but no one was in sight. Toby ran to me really energized and I petted him.

"So?" A voice asked from behind the couch.

"Sherlock?" I asked. I couldn't see him. "What are you doing back there?"

"Proving a theory. The killer could have been in the flat the whole time without anyone noticing. Did you see me when you walked in?"

"I can't even see you now."

"Great!" He exclaimed from behind me and I let out a little yelp. He walked behind the couch and took what looked like a walkie-talkie from the floor. "Which proves how he was thought to be in two places at once. Really simple, really. Not creative."

"You're working on a case?"

"Not anymore. Solved!" He said with a smile, waving the walkie-talkie with his right hand.

I gave out a weak smile, "I'm glad."

Sherlock looked at me, left the walkie-talkie on the couch and said with his hands clasped against each other, "Molly, I know living with me is not easy. I am not the most normal person in the world. I am rude and mostly a jerk. I do not know of sentiment and constantly find myself in situations normal people would find easy but to me are really exhausting." He looked nervous, really nervous. "I labeled those boxes for a reason, and, please, follow the labels. It would really help me out."

"Help you out with what?" I asked trying to hide the smile.

"I think you know." He replied, and I did. Help him with the game we were playing against Moriarty. I just didn't think it was possible to even suggest it. It meant I had a chance! Damn, what am I thinking? The game. I have no chance.

"Can I ask you a question?"

He nodded.

"If I had a box for you labeled _Stuff you don't really need but want to keep it for sentimental reasons__, _would anything in here go into that box?"

He smirked and looked away. He was not looking at a random spot. He was guiding me with his eyes to the skull sitting at the top of the chimney. I tried not to smile. I had given him that skull the first day I worked at a morgue. It was just there. The skull's body had never been found, never been identified and they were going to throw it away. I asked to keep it. Even though my boss looked like I was mad, she agreed to it.

I texted Sherlock and asked him to come over. He miraculously did, and I gave him the skull. He said it was the most interesting, macabre and friendliest thing anyone had ever given him. "Thanks, Molly."

Each time John told me Sherlock talked to a skull, I smiled and imagined he was talking to me through the skull. Kind of like a make-up for not being there in person.

"If you had a box for me that was labeled _Stuff you don't really need but want to keep it for sentimental reasons, _I would not put anything in it. Sentiment is a useless thing, Molly. Remember that."

I nodded. I understood. He cared about me, but he couldn't care about me.


	12. Flu

_**D.A. Smith:**_Sorry I haven't posted in two days. I was depressed that last chapter contained mistakes and found out when it had been already viewed hehe. Just kidding. School. But here we go again! Hope you like it! And, as always, reviews and criticisms are welcome :)

**CHAPTER 12**

The first three months passed fluidly. Sherlock and I lived in perfect harmony, barely crossing into each other's way. When John wasn't available, I joined Sherlock in his investigations to assist him. "Just like the good old time," he said. You see, before John there was the skull. Before the skull, there was me. Yes, I kind of got replaced by a human head. Totally my call, by the way. I had work to do and couldn't spend all that time with him.

He constantly complained that he needed to express his ideas out loud, said he was able to think better that way, so I gave him the skull. Turns out, he was really happy with it and didn't need me as much. Actually, he didn't want to bother me as much. So I only assisted him in what the skull couldn't, like using the lab.

Then along came John and the skull got replaced by actual human contact. But now that John had more stuff to do with his pregnant wife, Sherlock came back to the closest person available. Me. He only wanted to solve crimes, of course. So, sometimes after work or when I have a little space in my agenda, I join him.

But, of course, I couldn't spend all my free time with him. I had to go to Max.

Yes. Max and I kept dating, and have kept going out for the last three months. He isn't jealous of Sherlock at all, which is good for me. His lack of jealousy complicates the relationship less. He thinks Sherlock is so weird he could never become a threat to any living man. Needless to say, I haven't told him the truth about anything. Not about the little game we're playing and not about why my last two relationships have failed. But, even if he is totally fine with the idea of Sherlock and I living together, he has asked me several times if I would go ahead and move in with him. Max thinks I live with my college friend and constantly work together and that's it. He doesn't know our living situation, as dramatic as it sounds, is actually saving lives.

So, the first three months after I moved in with Sherlock Holmes passed with no news, with no drama and just as peacefully as any other day (if you take out of the picture murders and running and, more or less, shootings). Like always, he solved all cases in an extravagant manner. The only case he didn't solve, and frankly, it terrifies me that there is no actual explanation for it, is the case of a mysterious police box that appeared out of nowhere and then disappeared. Just like that. There's a video, but Sherlock and I decided to stop trying to find an explanation and just give up.

I had started to forget why I couldn't move out of Baker Street and go back to my old apartment. I started to see 221B as my own home.

Until the day Sherlock Holmes caught the flu. "I told you not to jump into that lake! Are you crazy?! It's freezing out there!" I cried as we entered our flat, Sherlock wearing a towel from his head to toe. He was completely wet.

He just smirked and replied calmly, "What fun is in that?! If I didn't jump, how else would I be able to prove the victim couldn't have died there by a mere accident but was actually dumped there when he was already dead?" He started coughing uncontrollably.

"Sherlock, take a shower and get into bed! That's an order!"

"You're not my mom!"

"I might as well be! Do as you're told!"

He obeyed. Funny enough, the moment he got into the shower his phone rang. It was his actual mom. I debated whether to answer or not. I decided not to and let it ring.

Sherlock got out of the shower and went to bed in a deplorable state, I might add. I was genuinely concerned. He was breathing rapidly and had a fever. I tried to take the fever down by putting a bag of ice over his forehead. It worked a bit. Between his increased respirations, he managed to say he was hungry. I cooked chicken soup.

I never thought I'd see him like this, all defenseless and vulnerable. He'd always seemed so strong and independent one starts to forget he is still a human. I helped him eat the soup and when he was done eating he fell asleep.

His phone rang again on his nightstand. It was his mother for the second time today. I knew she never called more than once in a week, so calling two times in a day was a matter of urgency. After debating with myself, I decided I should make sure everything was alright and picked up. I had met his mom and dad once, in the graduation ceremony in college. Sherlock introduced us really embarrassed and tried to take them away the moment I said "Hi" back.

_"Sherlock, don't be like that. We just wanted to meet your friend Molly you keep talking about." _His mother had said. The very memory makes me smile. He was so embarrassed when they took a photo of us.

"Hello?"

"Hello? Who is this?"

"Hello, Mrs. Holmes," I started to regret having picked up. "This is Molly Hooper speaking. I'm afraid Sherlock is really sick and can't pick up."

"Oh my! What does he have?!"

"The flu. He jumped into a lake earlier today. He's asleep now."

"Oh well. Tell him I called, will you dear? I'm just glad you're there to take care of him."

"Don't worry, Mrs. Holmes. I'm here."

We said goodbye and hanged up. I was about to put the phone back to his nightstand when it vibrated in my hand. I looked at the screen.

_Restricted Number_

_You are losing, Sherlock. I can tell you're becoming infected. JM._

I left the phone and went to the living room. If Moriarty thought Sherlock was becoming infected, then his threat might be carried out soon. But, Sherlock wasn't infected. I think that, out of all people, I would be able to tell.

"He's _not _infected." I said to thin air. I knew he must be watching somehow.

This time, it was my phone the one that vibrated.

_Restricted Number_

_Look in the drawer in his nightstand. JM_

"Ah, so you _are _listening."

_Restricted Number _

_Yes. JM_

I rolled my eyes, but walked to Sherlock's room anyway. Sherlock was still sleeping, up to the point of snoring. Carefully, I opened his drawer and found a book. _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. _

_Seriously? _I saw Sherlock as a more of a scientific book kind of guy. I'd expected to see Jules Verne, not Rowling. I opened it and, on the page where Harry is being explained the importance of her mother's loving sacrifice to save his life is an old photo.

It's a photograph of Sherlock and me on our graduation day.


	13. Infections

**CHAPTER 13 **

I stare at the photograph with an open mouth. One thing I'd noticed on that flat, was the lack of sentimental stuff. Okay, the skull excluded. But, there were no photographs, no frames, nothing that could say, "Hey, I have a heart! I have feelings! I care for the people whose photographs I own and want to show people I care for them by placing such photographs on frames in the living room." Seeing that photograph inside of that book in Sherlock's room made me realize that this might be the only photograph he might actually own.

And it was old.

And it was me. And him.

"What are you…?" Sherlock whispered, trying not to cough.

"Your mom called."

"Ah." He replied, uninterested.

"Twice."

"Oh!" He exclaimed with certain alarm.

"Don't worry, I picked up the second time. She just wanted to check in. Anyhow, when I was putting the phone down, Moriarty sent a text. He said you were infected, and sent me out here to look for something in your drawer. And I did."

"What did you find?"

"Harry Potter."

He smiled. "It is a good book."

"And this." I showed him the photograph. He immediately took it and hid it below the covers. Then he checked his phone and read the text. "So…Moriarty thinks you are infected."

"Well, Molly, of course I'm infected! Look at all this things flowing out my nose!"

"You know exactly what he means." I said softly and looked into his eyes. I don't really know what I wanted him to say. For the last three months, I'd pretended I had no idea what Moriarty meant by "infection". Sherlock hadn't tried to tell me either, but I think today is the day of revelations. "I know what he means by _infection, _Sherlock. I heard you explaining it to John."

He sighed. "Have you figured out why yet?"

I shook my head no. "Figure what out?"

"Why you? You're the closest I've ever been to a serious relationship. And that scares the crap out of me. Moriarty knows that." He started coughing. "Sentiment is something I've repudiated and tried to bury for as long as I can remember. You have been my oldest friend, but, the thing is, you're still a girl."

I said nothing and kept listening.

"The thing is, Molly, a boy and a girl can't be just friends. There are hormones that can make sure that never happens. Moriarty figured that, given our long history, the hormones would kick in and I would fall for you. But he was wrong."

I don't think I've ever heard such horrible words. Five words that broke my heart. Five words that started tearing it. _But he was wrong…_

"I could not fall for you, Molly. I could not do that to you. You deserve better."

"Don't…" I started. I didn't want to hear such clichéd speech. I didn't want to hear it. Not from him.

"I'm not boyfriend material, Molly. That's why you and I can never be! It's not you!"

I stopped listening and stood up. It was then when I noticed I had been sitting on his bed all along.

"Moriarty just wanted to scare me into thinking I was falling for you."

"And falling for me is scary?"

"Falling for _anyone_ is scary."

"Well, I feel more special now."

I just stood there, near the door, hearing only the sound of air coming into each of our lungs and exhaling. After a few moments, I noticed what he was doing. He wasn't telling me if he was infected or not. He evaded the question completely. It wasn't as if I could ask, _so are you infected or not? _I really wanted to know. So, I tried to push it a little bit. "Why would you keep the picture?"

"I looked really good. You, on the other hand…"

I scoffed and got out of the room. My head was spinning and there were too voices in my head. One saying, _You know he might be just pretending! He might love you! _But the other one said, _He could be telling the truth, you know?_

There was a knock on the door and Max came into the flat. "We just came by to say hi!" He was holding Toby by a leash and ran to me the moment he saw me. Toby had been staying with Max for the last few weeks, given that Max's house had a backyard and Toby could at least have space to run.

I crouched and petted him with great excitement while he licked my whole face. I laughed. "He's been missing you."

"And I've missing him!" Then I started saying with a high voice, "Who's a good boy?"

"Have you thought about moving in with me yet? You could see Toby more."

"I can't…yet. Maybe in another three months' time. We're almost there!"

He took my waist and kissed me. "I just want to wake up every day next to you." He muttered and then kissed me again. I kissed him back, rejoicing on the taste of his lips. We'd never kissed inside this flat and it was new, and exciting. I suddenly realized I could move on with Max. He could cure me from my Sherlock sickness. His lips caused me to shiver.

I opened my eyes, thinking about this realization, but the moment I opened them, I found Sherlock by his door, staring.

When he noticed I'd seen him, he went back to his room and closed the door lightly. I separated from Max immediately and didn't know what to do. What had happened?

The sudden explosion outside the window seemed to be the answer to my question.


	14. Beautiful Tragic

**CHAPTER 14**

I don't remember a lot after the explosion. It is all a blur full of smoke and ashes and high temperatures. I remember someone took me in their arms and took me out of the building. I remember voices talking and then and a scream. I kind of remember being in a cab. But that's it. The next moment I opened my eyes, I was somewhere I hadn't been in three months. It was my own apartment.

It was as I had left it, at least the living room, which is where I found myself sleeping. There were some things moved, the couch smelled weird. I had a blanket over me that wasn't even mine. It occurred to me that maybe I had been dreaming all this time, but the black dust on my hands said otherwise. Plus, the blanket couldn't magically appear in my apartment.

"Ah, you're awake! Yay!"

I turned at the sound of Jim's voice. He entered the living room and walked up to me so I could see him full front from where I was sitting. "Welcome home, Molly Hooper! Did you miss it?" He was smiling, showing off his teeth like a tiger looking at its prey.

"Have you been…living here?" I asked, waving the blanket to show him why I thought so.

"Yes."

"Did you create all of this so you could have a place to stay?"

"Well, I came back from the dead, wanted to play because I was super bored but needed a roof in the meantime. And your flat is nice. So, yeah."

I don't know why I wasn't surprised. "Where is Sherlock and Max?"

"Oh, Sherlock will be joining us anytime soon. It won't take too long to figure out where we are. I mean, he knows about Max."

I skewed my head. _Knows about Max? _

"Oh, sorry, where are my manners? Maaaaaa-aaaaax!"

My heart started beating rapidly when I saw Max come into the living room, all smiles and joy. It couldn't be! Again?! I had dated a sociopath again?!

"Oh, come on! Another sociopath?!" I just couldn't believe my luck. _Clearly _sociopaths were my type.

Max looked offended, though. "I'm not a sociopath. I'm a high functioning psychopath. Learn the difference."

I placed my hand on my forehead and sustained my head with it. "Either way, it's getting old." Psychopaths have the ability to lie without giving any signs of it. That's why he fooled Sherlock. And me. But I was mostly surprised he fooled Sherlock, though. The only other person able to fool him had been Moriarty himself.

"I find it extremely peculiar you are not scared, Molly." Max sat beside me, analyzing me with his gaze.

"If you were going to kill me, you would already done so."

"Not if I wanted to see you suffer while you die."

I turned to face him and said, "Again, you would already have done so. Plus, Jim wouldn't let you."

Moriarty laughed and asked why that was.

"Because you need me to lure Sherlock here. I'm the bait."

Jim nodded, impressed. "You're not as dumb."

"Tell me why you made that building explode. We didn't lose!"

Moriarty started laughing really hard. Max joined him. When they were able to cath their breath, Max still giggling, Jim said, "I overestimated you, then. You _are _dumb. I told you what each of you had to do. I kept my part. You kept your part. But, Sherlock…" He frowned. "He messed up bad."

"He didn't!"

"I've been watching for three months, Molly. You are uninteresting people! I had to entertain myself sometimes by making more bombs and putting them in other parts of England. I came back and you were still being boring. Until I noticed a little detail. Sherlock read a book every single night. He took the book out of his drawer and read every single night."

"Harry Potter." I affirmed. Jim had me take out the book for a reason.

"That was not the detail. The curious thing that caught my eye was the fact he read the same page every night. He never turned a page. He just opened the book and apparently read but never turning a page. I tried sending Max to investigate, but Sherlock's door was always closed, except last night."

It clicked. He made me go to his room, take out the book and see what was there. If he really was reading or not. Instead, I found the picture and asked Sherlock about it. He tried to hide it, in case Moriarty was watching and tried to divert the attention from the picture by saying all that stuff about boy and girl never being able to be friends and how he could never fall for me. He had tried to save the situation, I was the one foolish enough to do what Jim told me to do. Foolish enough to ask about the picture knowing perfectly well he could not tell me if in fact he felt something for me.

But I was curious. I wanted to know if Sherlock felt anything at all for me. For the first time, I could understand what Sherlock had been saying all along. _Sentiment is a useless thing, Molly. Remember that. _Feelings block your view. Feelings won't make you think straight.

Sherlock went to bed every night pretending to read, but was actually looking at our picture. I wanted to cry. It was so beautiful and so tragic.

_**D.A. Smith: Tell me what you think! Did you feel anything? What do you think about the outcome/ Max? :p **_


	15. Tea

**_D.A. Smith: _****Thank you all for your reviews! Reading your excitement makes me all more excited to keep writing! Just...don't hate me :) Love for all! **

**CHAPTER 15**

It still didn't feel as if anything was real. Seeing Max sitting by my side, as if nothing was wrong in life, as if everything was the way it had always been, perturbed me. This wasn't the Max I knew. Max would never sell out to someone as Moriarty. The more I thought about it, the more it doubts were created in my mind as to Max's real intentions. He wasn't a psychopath. I would have known.

"Hey, Molly, do you have an Iphone dock?" Jim asked me from the kitchen. He had decided that, while we waited for Sherlock to come, we should have tea.

Not even intending to understand his question I answered I had one in my closet. He hurried away really excited to look for it, almost giggling as he disappeared.

Making sure Jim was not able to hear, I leaned in to Max and whispered, "What does he have on you?" Max blinked confused, so I rephrased the question. "Why are you helping him?"

He looked down to his palms and said, "I'm sorry, Molly. I didn't want to do it but…I have a son."

He had told me about his son. David. After the divorce, he barely got to see him. "Doing this would keep him safe."

Threatened. Max was threatened into doing this, into helping Jim. "Why would you say you were a psychopath?"

"Moriarty said it would be funny to talk like him, like Sherlock. Listen, Molly, all I had to do was stay with you and bring you here if a bomb exploded. That's it."

I couldn't say anything else. Actually, I think I didn't want to know anything else, so I kept quiet. Jim re-entered the living room with the dock in his hands just as the kettle whistled, signaling hot water was ready. Jim seemed way too excited as he plugged in the dock and placed his Iphone on it. Then he hurried to the kitchen and served four different cups of tea and brought them into the living room, placing the cups on the center table. "Not long now." He said and pressed play as he sat down and drank from it.

Vivaldi's _Spring_ resonated from the speaker, just as the knob turned. Sherlock entered the flat. We all turned, and Jim said, "Want to join us for tea?"

Sherlock looked around the flat, examining every single thing rapidly. Then he sneezed.

"Oh, bringing germs into my home, are you?" Jim said as he sipped his bag of tea into the water. "How disrespectful."

"Are you okay, Molly?" Sherlock asked with concern. I nodded. He then turned to Jim angrily, "You didn't have to bomb anything!"

Moriarty was sipping from his tea and then jumped at the accusation. "Oh! Yes, yes I did. A deal is a deal." He laughed, "You thought I was bluffing? No, no, Sherlock. I am disappointed. For a second, though, I thought you were going to win. But, of course, you were weak enough to give in."

I sighed.

"Please, take a seat, Sherl." Moriarty pointed to the seat next to me and, curiously, Sherlock sat. I could see he was still working on what Moriarty might be planning. "Well, the game was fun. Let's play again."

"What?!" I cried out.

"Calm down, Molly, let's play a _different_ game."

"No." I stood up, trying to make a point. I wasn't afraid of him. Not anymore. "I won't be part of your stupid games anymore!"

"Oooh…. The lion awakens."

"Molly, sit down." Sherlock ordered calmly and, hating myself for it, I obeyed.

"Yes, Molly. Just let the adults talk now, please?"

"So…tea?" Sherlock, took a cup of tea from the table.

"Too predictable. I know."

Max and I looked at each other. He had taken the cup into his hands, about to sip. We now knew the tea had poison. But, hadn't I just seen Jim drinking from his tea? Not all of them had poison then. Probably just our cups. Or just one. Just to be safe, I wouldn't drink from that. Max lowered his cup, probably thinking the same thing.

"The good thing is I still have about eleven bombs lying around. You know…in case something goes wrong."

"I could kill you right now."

"No you can't. You see, Sherlock, there are many ways to kill someone or to ruin someone's life. Many, many ways." Slowly, Sherlock's face turned to face Max and I. "Some you might not even see."

Max started breathing irregularly.

"You know, funny stuff. The news about my return died. No one has seen me. Nothing has happened that might give away the fact that I'm alive. Some people took it like what happened three months ago was just a prank."

Max was choking. I went to him and tried to help him but didn't know what to do.

"Just a teenage prank. The only ones who knew about my return are in this room, and one won't be able to talk about it."

I was getting desperate. Sherlock did not move. I tried to call an ambulance, but I didn't have my phone on me. "Sherlock! Call an ambulance!" I cried. Max couldn't die. Not like this. Still, he did not move.

"How would it be seen that the famous Sherlock Holmes, the man who killed a man three months ago and was to be deported, the accomplished chemist, murdered a man who was dating the woman he loved and tried to blame it on a dead man? And, to make his accusation more plausible, bombed various parts of London, including his own apartment, to exclude him from the suspects?"

Max was turning blue, the asphyxiation winning him over.

"You see, Holmes, you _can_ kill me, but it will just make you seem all more guilty."

Finally, Max collapsed.


	16. Confusion

**CHAPTER 16 **

**_D.A. Smith: _**Hello everyone! I'm sorry I haven't posted anything in a while. I had a bunch of exams and stuff to do so I couldn't write as before. Plus, to be honest, I was still debating how I should continue the story. Anyhow, hope you like it! I think this is getting a little bit darker buuut….it might give the story a little drama later on.

* * *

It's been a month since I last saw light. A month since I saw Max fall in the most horrible way possible. A month since Jim took me and didn't let go. A month of sitting here, in the darkness of some damp basement, just waiting for something to happen. At the beginning I had hope, I had faith my dear Sherlock will come rescue me like some sort of fairytale prince. I constantly dreamed of him coming in, picking me up in his arms and we ran together, away from all of this madness. But, as time passed, that dream became more and more blurred, until I just saw it like something impossible.

The basement had a bed in nice shape, a light bulb that illuminated most of the room, a little wooden table with two wooden chairs and a staircase that lead outside. Of course, it was always locked. I'd tried to escape the first few days, but there was no way.

Jim made sure to come by every day. He sat with me and told me what my friends were up to. He said Sherlock gave up on me and continued his life. I refused to believe him at first. Sherlock Holmes, one of my oldest friends, wouldn't just give up. "Well, no," Moriarty would say, talking as if he was on my side and trying to comfort me, "but, I'm telling you, he's doubting on whether he should rescue you or not."

Again, I refused to believe him. Why would Sherlock doubt on rescuing me? As time passed, about two weeks since that disastrous day at my flat, the question lingered. Was he actually doubting? Sherlock was fast. He would have gotten here by now. And I began to doubt. _Maybe he doesn't want to rescue me,_ I thought. I tried shaking that thought, I tried to forget it, but it was always bothering me on the back of my mind.

Another day, Jim sat with me and talked to me while we ate. He was actually being nice. At least he gave me decent food. I suppose he could see doubt starting to build on me, the question of why wouldn't Sherlock come for me. He chuckled, "You're wondering why you're prince is not coming, right?"

I said nothing, but he continued. "I'll tell you the truth, Molly. You've always been a distraction to him and his job. You know he loves his job more than anything else in the world and you…well, kind of distract him from it."

"How would I distract him?!" I snapped.

"Sentiment, Molly. I thought we were clear on that now. After all that's happened. Remember the boxes he labeled? He didn't want to see you all pretty every day because that would distract him." He was being serious. There was no mock in his tone, there was no laughter. I was beginning to think he even felt pity for me. "I'll let you go, Molly. I just want you to realize he's not a prince."

By the third week, I started crying every night. I realized that it was true. Sherlock didn't want to find me. He was usually super-fast, but when it came to me he wasn't. Max was dead because of me and my relationship with Sherlock. A person died because he was close to me. And I was close to Sherlock. Or, at least I thought I was. Sometimes, Jim would come in and I would be crying, so he would hand me a tissue and sit with me, sometimes even hugging me. I didn't know what to think. I was so confused.

On the fourth week, I just felt numb. No pain. No sadness. Not even hope. I thought that by now, even Scotland Yard was going to be the one to find me. Not Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock Holmes didn't care for me.

The door opened with a loud bang. I looked at it, not moving a single inch from where I was sitting, on top of my now familiar bed. "Molly?!" A deep voice called. I knew it was Sherlock's, and yet I was not excited. I thought I was dreaming like I did many times before. Then I saw his face in front of mine.

"Molly?" He asked, taking me by the shoulders, his face seemed preoccupied, "Can you hear me?"

I did not respond again. I think I was shocked. I did not believe this to be real, and I did not want the hope to be destroyed.

"Molly, you'll be okay." He whispered, grabbed me by the waist, placed his hand under my legs and the other behind my back, and he carried me out of that well known cellar.

I saw Greg outside, he was frowning as he saw me. John was there too. He kept asking me questions to which I had no answer. He asked if I was okay, how did I feel, he checked my eyes, my wrists, my pulse and then sent me to a hospital. We all took a ride with Greg and arrived to St. Bart's. A doctor I knew from work checked everything else for signs of violence or something. All that time I didn't talk.

They gave me a room to rest and be kept in observation, where I instantly fell asleep, and the moment my eyes started closing was when I knew I was not dreaming and that I was actually back to the real world. Maybe Sherlock does care for me after all. Maybe he is a prince. But, still, in the back of my mind, I could hear Moriarty's words as softly and clearly as if I had just heard them

* * *

**_D.A Smith: _**So there you have it! Molly was brainwashed by Moriarty. She starts to feel doubts about her relationship with Sherlock and whether or not he actually cares for her. Hope you like it and review. And, again, sorry for the long wait.


	17. Tom

**_D.A Smith: _**Thank you soooo much for your awesome reviews! Every review warms my heart and makes me so happy and makes me want to keep writing! Thanks for your continued support!

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**CHAPTER 17**

I woke up slowly, first seeing the moonlight reflecting onto the hospital's ceiling. The room was spacey. My bed was soft, and there was a small sofa beside it that held a long coat. I sat up and stared at the coat. The all too familiar coat. What was it doing there? It's not as if Sherlock could possibly be here. Not at this time at night, anyway.

I sighed. I was beginning to regret my previous lack of trust in him. I should know better than listen to whatever Jim Moriarty had to say. Still, what he said made so much sense to me. Everything he said made sense. I suppose manipulators _have _to make sense to manipulate you. But I couldn't help it. It didn't matter how hard I pushed the thought to the back of my mind, it always crawled up front.

_At the end he rescued you._ I told myself. _He does care. _

Then Jim's voice came back, _He's doubting whether he should rescue you or not. You're a distraction to him and his work. _

I laid down again, my head falling onto the pillow with hardly any hesitation and I fell asleep.

The next time I woke up, it was already morning. There was sunlight illuminating the room and a woman looking outside through the window. Mrs. Hudson. She looked at me and smiled with all her teeth, sincerely glad to see me.

I smiled back shyly.

"How are you feeling?" She said in that particular tone people use when referring to sick people. It was affectionate but with a hint of pity.

"Fine," I replied shortly. It was weird hearing my own voice again. It felt raspy. I hadn't talked at all lately, and it felt good to use my vocal chords again.

"At least you're talking now. That's always a good sign."

I nodded. "It feels good."

"I'll go tell the rest you're awake. They've all been worried sick about you. Sherlock hasn't left your side all night. I barely convinced him to go have a cup of coffee or something."

My heart jumped. "He _what?_"

Mrs. Hudson giggled and replied, "Oh, sweetie, you rest. I'm glad you're okay." She opened the door and left the room with a huge grin.

I was still surprised. I had seen his coat on the sofa last night, but he had been nowhere in sight. It was weird. A few moments later there was a knock on the door and then it opened. To my great surprise, Tom walked in with great joy, opening his arms as he got closer to me. He took me and embraced me tightly as he asked the main question, "How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay." I said between giggles. "Surprised to see you here."

"Well, John called me when they got you back. I was relieved, actually. I had been really preoccupied, calling them every single day asking for updates."

"How did you find out?"

He looked to the floor nervously as he said, "You're friend Sherlock came by to ask stuff about you that could lead to your location. Obviously, he had to tell me what had happened to you, so I cooperated. To be honest, I don't hate him so much now. "

I smiled. "_How _was it that they found me? I mean, _where_ was I?" It suddenly dawned on me that I had a lot of questions. That even though I was the victim, or whatever you might want to call it, I didn't know as much about the incident.

"I don't know. The only thing I know is that John and Sherlock asked me a lot of questions about you and your past." I could actually hear Jim's voice in my head saying _It's been ten years you've been friends with Sherlock Holmes, but I bet he doesn't know anything about you. _

I tried not to think about that and continued listening to Tom. "You know, like where you grew up, how were your parents like, where did you go to school, simple stuff like that, and they somehow found you in an abandoned warehouse in the middle of a forest. Kind of like Granny's house, from little Red Riding Hood. The Wolf ran away, though."

I laughed a little.

"Anyhow, I'm really glad you're okay. The doctors say you are in perfectly good health. That man treated you okay?"

"Yeah," I started. "It was weird, but he was okay. He got me decent food and a bed. I was alright except for the whole kidnapping thing."

"I'm glad." He said with a grin and took my hand. "I'm really glad you're okay." We looked at each other for a moment and then he stood up, taking his hand away from mine. "Well, I have to go. There are people outside waiting to see you. There's John and Mary. Mary already gave birth, by the way. It was a girl. They've named her Caitlin." I smiled. "You've seen Mrs. Hudson. Some people from your lab are also here. Of course, Mr. I'm-not-leaving-so-everyone-shut-up Holmes. Also, this guy, what's his name? Sebastian, I think. He works in a bank. He says you guys went to college together."

I nodded with a huge grin. I couldn't believe this many people were here for me.

"Anyway, I'll see you around Ms. Hooper." He said as he reached for the door's handle.

"I'll see you around Mr. Baker."

He left.

It's always weird to see an ex, especially an ex-fiancee, but Tom was really nice. I must say, I am glad that he doesn't hate me, and that he doesn't hate Sherlock either. I just hope that one day he might find the perfect girl for him. I know I messed things up between us, and I didn't deserve such a good guy, but honestly, I hope he does find a girl who loves him and only him.

A girl that is not as hung up on a sociopath like I am. _Sherlock and John asked me a bunch of questions about you and your past. Like where were you from and what school you went to. _How could my oldest friend, my friend of ten years, not know that?

* * *

**_D.A Smith: _**I hope you liked it and review and stuff! Thank you all for everything! I love you all! :D


	18. Round 2

**_D.A Smith: _Thank you sooo much for your reviews! I cannot tell you how much it means to me that you are liking this. Here's the next part. Hope you like it! (Super nervous right now! #Fainting) **

* * *

**CHAPTER 18**

The next one to enter was my friend Lila. The moment she saw me, she ran to me, hugged me, said she was so worried, started crying, then hugged me again, asked if I was feeling okay and repeated how worried she'd been. Apparently, Sherlock had presented himself to her house at night and delivered the news. "I could tell he had to be truly desperate to come to _me _for help. I mean, he hasn't said a word to me since _the _party where I was supposed to keep you away from that guy but did the exact opposite. I can't believe he's still mad about that. It was back in college, for crying out loud."

I sighed, "Well, that guy _did _slip me a roofie."

"But you didn't drink it."

"Because Sherlock slapped the drink off my hand."

Lila answered, "True," thoughtfully, but then continued to be her usual hyper self, talking in her usual super speed. "Anyhow, he came by, asked a few weird-ass questions and then left. I tried to reach him to keep updated but, of course, he'd never answer his phone if he knew it was me, so I had to hear everything from Tom. Tom said Sherlock asked him where you went to school and I was like _Dude, Molly was homeschooled. Everybody knows that. _And Tom was like _yeah I know_! And I was like, _Seems Mr. Know it all doesn't know it all. _Damn, girl, I miss Tom."

I smiled, "I did mess up bad."

"Really bad. Anyhow, he's okay. Don't worry. Hey, did you hear Sebastian is here?" And she kept talking and talking. She is one of those people you never get tired of listening to. We laughed a little and she only stopped when someone knocked on the door. The door opened slightly and John Watson poked his head inside the room.

"Hello, Molly. Can we come in?"

"Of course! Come in!" I replied really excited to see more people. He came in, followed by Mary who was followed by Sherlock, who saw Lila and instantly looked away, obviously disturbed by her. "This is my friend Lila." I said, pointing to her, "Lila, this is John and Mary and, of course you know Sherlock."

"Hello." "Nice, meeting you." Mary and John greeted cordially.

"Hello. Well, Molls, I better leave you with your friends. I already took a lot of time from you. See you later! Get better!" She rushed to the door and turned to say, "Nice meeting you. John and Mary, right?" They both nodded. "See you later, Sherlock." Sherlock just rolled his eyes as she closed the door behind her.

"She seems nice." John commented.

"She is, actually." I replied and Sherlock let out a little snort while he looked, apparently really interested, to the wall. I ignored it. "By the way, congratulations on your baby!"

"Oh, thank you. 5 pounds, can you believe it?" Mary's eyes glowed with emotion. I could see Sherlock doing anything he could think of to not look at me. He was staring at the window, the floor the roof. Anything but me. "But, how are you feeling?"

I grinned, having answered the question repeatedly today. "I feel perfectly fine, thank you." John and Mary looked at each other through the corner of their eyes, as if they knew something I didn't. Sherlock kept on looking around. "So when can I get out of here?"

"They have to X-ray you, run some blood tests, and then you can go home." John said with a little pity in his voice. "Just to make sure."

"Make sure of what? I feel fine. Nothing hurts, except for this little itch I have in my chest but that's it. I don't have any broken bones or anything." No one said anything, which was starting to worry me. "Guys, what's going on?"

"Moriarty was here last night." Sherlock said, still trying to avoid my eyes. "We met at the roof, yet again. He thought it would interesting." He was speaking so slow, making out every single word, so unlike his usual self, that I knew, I just knew this was going to end badly. After a little pause, he continued telling his story. This is how it happened:

_Sherlock walked through the roof, seeing Moriarty's silhouette in the shadows. As his breathing intensified and anger and frustration took over him, Sherlock demanded "What have you done to Molly?" _

_ Moriarty giggled and replied in a sarcastic tone, "What? Not even a hello? After everything we've been through, Sherly?" He was sitting on one corner of the roof, just where he was sitting the day he supposedly died. _

_ "What did you do?!" _

_ "Ah. Just decided I should let you two play round two, but with a slight change of rules."_

_ "We won't play anymore of your stupid games." Sherlock walked towards Moriarty and with anger, held him up by the collar, threatening to throw him off the building. _

_ "Now, now, Sherly, there is no reason to get angry. If you let me fall you'd really be a murderer and how would you talk yourself out of this one eh? Plus, it's not as if you had a choice whether to play my game or not." _

_ "What?" Sherlock lowered him but still held on to his collar. _

_ "Remember Max? Yeah, that dead guy? What did he die of? He was just an experiment, Sherlock, to see if our little poison worked with increased heart rate. And it did! Max died of fright, literally. His heart sped up to 100bpm, so our poison kicked in." _

_ Wide-eyed, realizing what was happening, he stated just to make sure, "You did that to Molly." _

_ "Oh, yes. Just to make matters more interest—" Sherlock interrupted by punching him right in the face. Luckily, Lestrade had stayed until late also, because Sherlock had told him Moriarty might appear somehow. Scotland Yard arrested Moriarty, and he was now imprisoned. _

"Round two." Sherlock finished, sadder than I had ever seen him.

I looked down to my palms, processing what I had just heard. "You're lying. I would remember him putting some kind of poison in me."

"Do you remember everything that happened in this month?"

I kept looking down, numb. Now it was me who was avoiding Sherlock's eyes. "No. Just flashes. Certain things he said. Some things he did. Maybe I blocked some stuff."

"We'll find an antidote, Molly. The two of us." He smiled trying to comfort me. I took a breath trying to calm myself down. If I looked at him now, if all of this is true, I know that just by looking at him smile I might die of love. Literally.

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**_D.A. Smith: _Moriarty does like to play games, more psychological than anything, and he never gets his hands dirty. He doesn't care how far he has to go, or if he is in prison now, or even killed for that matter. Let me know what you think of this second round.**


	19. Deep Knowledge

**_D.A Smith: _****Thank you all for reviewing and everything! Vortianized, we can't help but love a well developed character as Jim Moriarty is. I really do hope I'm making justice to Andrew's characterization, though. I constantly worry about that. And I really loved the _You are evil _comment by Bucky5. Made me feel I was doing a good job. Hope you equally like this chapter because I'm trying out something new! Tell me what you think! Hugs and Kisses to all and enjoy! (hopefully) **

**CHAPTER 19**

The doctors took blood from me and x-rayed me a few hours later. We were waiting for the results impatiently, and when they finally came, I kind of wished they hadn't. Turns out I had some kind of bacteria in my bloodstream that, if rushed, could infect me and kill me. The doctors had no idea what kind of bacteria this was and thus, had no way of treating it. They suggested I should come back to get more tests and find some kind of treatment, but I knew the truth. This kind of tests would take years to find the solution to get rid of this thing living in my blood. I agreed to keep coming back to get tested, but decided to run some tests of my own, also. That's what my lab was for.

Sherlock and I returned to Baker Street at around 6pm, and to my surprise, I found Toby sitting in front of the door, wiggling his tail with excitement and running to me barking. "Oh, hey little fella! Who's a good boy? Who's a good boy? You are! You are!" It's hard to talk seriously to a dog. I've tried. "You got him back!" I exclaimed, looking at Sherlock.

"Of course I brought him back. Where did you want him to go?"

I remembered then that Max had been taking care of him before all of this madness happened. I sighed and scratched my dog's ears. "Did you have a service? For Max, I mean?"

Sherlock nodded. "I wasn't there, but John tells me there was a lot of people present."

"Why weren't you there?"

"I was in jail." He replied matter-of-factly.

I looked at him with surprise and gaped. "You were in jail?!"

"A guy had just been killed and I was the only one there. With my criminal history and the actual murderer reported as dead, it was a logical move for them to arrest me."

"When…how…" I didn't know what question to ask first. I hadn't realized that, obviously, there had been consequences to Max's death. That was probably why I wasn't rescued earlier. The world's only consulting detective had been locked up.

"Graham stepped up and intervened. He convinced the judge to give me two weeks to find Moriarty, and if I didn't I would be locked up for life."

I was a little confused, "Who's Graham?"

"Oh, Molly. Graham Lestrade! You know him!"

"His name is Greg."

"Is it?" I could tell he was trying to remember if that was the case.

"Doofus." I said smiling. "So you found me and _knew_ Moriarty would come back for me and got him then."

"All according to plan."

I stared at him unbelieving his words. "It was plain luck, wasn't it?"

"Yes. Do you want anything to eat?" He walked over to the refrigerator and opened it.

"I'm fine, thanks." I was truly fine. He couldn't come get me sooner because he'd been locked up. Obviously. He did care about me. He knew stuff about me.

Moriarty's voice in the back of my mind made itself present again. _It's been over 10 years, but I bet he doesn't know a thing about you._ "Sherlock?"

"Yeah, Molly?" He replied, scanning the contents of the fridge.

"What's my middle name?"

"C'mon Molly, you're not that old to be forgetting stuff like that. Take some vitamins, would you?"

"I'm serious. Do you know it?"

"Umm…" He turned around and looked at me. After a few seconds he turned around again. "Molly, I'm trying to make dinner, don't bother me."

"You don't know how to cook."

"I said _trying." _

_He doesn't know, _I thought, _but yet, he doesn't know Lestrade's first name. _"It's Anne."

"Ok, cool."

"And my favorite color? Movie? What's my mother's name?"

Sherlock turned around, closed the fridge's door, and walked towards me slowly. He placed his hands on my shoulders and looked at me with those soul-piercing eyes of his. I had to think about a really fat man eating donuts to stop my heart from racing. He opened his mouth and said, "Take vitamins, Molly, you need them."

He took his hands off my shoulders, walked to his couch and sat.

"Are you saying you don't know anything about me?"

"Molly, what is this about?" He said with his eyes closed, sounding bored and sincerely annoyed, but I didn't care.

"I just find it really weird that we've known each other for ten years and yet you still have to go ask around for information about me. Basic information, that is. You are my oldest friend and you don't know anything about me."

He opened his eyes and raised his eyebrows. "Ah,"

I waited for something else, but he never said anything else. "Ah?"

"Molly, why would I know basic stuff? It just takes up space in my memory palace. I'm more intrigued by the deeper stuff."

"Like what?"

He scoffed and asked, "What is this about Molly? Did Moriarty fill your head with stuff?"

"Yes!" I cried, "And I think he might actually be right! Just prove him wrong! Please. Tell me something only a friend of ten years would know." _Really fat guy eating a donut. Really fat guy eating a donut. Really fat guy eating an ice cream cone, and it falls down. _This thing about having to calm down my heart's beating was going to be hard. I could feel it. Because, it wasn't just only, let's say, love or crushes or anything like that. It was whole emotions. Adrenaline. Walking up the stairs. Exercising (not that I did that last one anyway). I was afraid anything could set this thing off.

He thought about it for a second and then said, "You start menstruating on the sixth."

"Ewww," I said, really grossed out.

"You wanted me to know deep stuff about you! There you go! It doesn't get any deeper than that."

"Normal stuff!" I said between giggles, but then it hit me. Why would Sherlock know that? "Why the hell would you save that on your memory palace but not where I was born?"

"Molly, we had _that_ conversation in the lab. Really awkward, by the way, but you started it."

I tried remembering what conversation he meant.

_Sherlock: How is…Tom?_

_Molly: We're having a lot of sex_

"Why would you remember that? It was just a joke."

"Well, I didn't want you to get pregnant. Not from _him._" He said the last word rolling his eyes. "I know I made you uncomfortable now that you know I know your cycle but I guess we are even."

"I guess we are." I guess he _does _notice things concerning me. Just not the usual stuff I would expect him to know. He notices the wrinkles on shirts or stains of ketchup on your lips.

"And your birthday is on May 11th."

"July."

"Dammit!" But I would never ask again. Because it was then that I knew that he knew the unusual stuff about people because he was an unusual kind of guy.

**_D.A Smith: _****I'm sorry if any of you were a little grossed out by some of the comments expressed in this chapter. Sherlock is not exactly tactful, but still we love him, don't we? And he is right! It doesn't get any deeper than that, so the point is across! As always, tell me what you think! I'm looking forward to your insights! :D **


	20. Grave

**_D.A Smith: _****Thank you all for everything! Your support makes everything better!**

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**CHAPTER 20 **

The next day, I decided to go to the cemetery and visit Max's grave. Sherlock wouldn't go with me because, apparently, we couldn't do "anything productive" there.

"Just come with me. I don't want to go alone."

"And I don't want to see you cry. And you _will _cry. I never know how to act when people cry."

I knew that. The first time he saw me cry, back in college when the guy I'd been dating for three months suddenly decided he liked Lisa's bed better than me (I didn't want to have sex with him, and he only wanted that) Sherlock had given me a tissue, patted my back three times saying "There, There" and tried to leave.

_ I grabbed his coat to not let him go and buried my face in his chest, crying my heart out. "Oh, boy," I could hear him mutter under his breath every thirty seconds. _

_"Why would he prefer her over me?" I wailed. _

_"Given his age, the fact that he is willing to sleep with him and her big breasts played a major influence." I started crying harder. "Well, she does have bigger breasts." I stopped, looked at him and cried even more.. "I mean," he tried to correct himself, "I can see why he would go to her." _

_ "Just shut up!" I yelled, muffled by his now wet shirt. _

_ "Ok," he said, and just sat there like a statue. _

"Not going there." Sherlock said absent-mindedly looking at his laptop. I sighed and left.

Standing there, in front of that cold, hard stone and seeing Max's name and the dates written on there made everything feel suddenly real. That he was really gone. And I felt guilty.

It was all my fault.

I started crying. I tried to hold it, but I just couldn't. I started letting out these weird sobs and wails that made me thankful that Sherlock decided not to come. When I could finally calm down, I told the grave, "I'm sorry," and started apologizing to the piece of stone. It felt weird, almost like talking to myself, but I knew that somehow he was going to be able to hear me, and it brought me some comfort, so I kept talking. I started reminding him about college, some moments of ours. I started talking about how I thought he was awesome. I just told him everything I could think of, but all that time, I felt observed.

There was this person leaning on a tree, watching me intensely. After a while I felt so weird, I just stopped talking and looked at him directly. The person chuckled and stood still. "Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt you."

I didn't say anything. He was really pale, and tall. He had long hair that fell just below his ears. He walked towards me really calmly, and I stepped back. "Woah! I'm not going to hurt you, Molly."

I sniffled and asked really scared, suddenly self-conscious of my puffy eyes. "How do you know my name?"

He giggled. "You're funny. I can see why he likes you. Kind of cute, and fragile. Like a kid wanting to understand the world." His manner of talking, his gestures, everything he did gave him a familiar air. Like if I'd seen him somewhere. "I just wanted you to know that Max's death wasn't your fault. Moriarty became a little too insane. Poor guy. He used to be brilliant, but he messed up with you and then…you know, his apparent suicide and Sherlock's fake death. He got outwitted and that made him totally mad. Desperate."

Then, thinking about it for a moment, he said looking to the sky, I guess it was your fault indirectly for helping Sherlock fake his death."

"Who are you?"

"Ah, Molly, no. No, don't ask that. I'm a friend. I swear I am." He crossed his heart with his index finger. "See? It's a promise."

I took another step back. "I don't trust people who won't identify. Why won't you tell me your name?"

"Well, I used to have a name. Then my parents kicked me out, my brothers stopped talking to me. It's as if I never existed. Nobody remembers that poor little fella. I had to create a whole new identity. I don't know what my name is anymore. Well, I do, but I don't want to tell you. Not yet, anyway. Just be reassured, Molly. Moriarty will die in the prison. He made too many mistakes. I had been a proud teacher, now I'm just disappointed."

I gulped and took another step back. My heart started racing. If I wasn't careful, I could end up like Max. I tried breathing. "Oh, I'm sorry. Forgot he did that with the poison. Honestly, I thought it was brilliant to do that, but the way he executed it…could've been better. I did fabricate that poison with love, though, knowing it was for you."

I was getting more scared by the minute.

"Sorry. I don't want you dead. I'll be out right now. I just want you to pass along a message." He waited for me to agree but I didn't do anything. All of my forces concentrated on keeping my heart calm. He continued, anyway. "Tell my younger brother I have seen what he has become. Tell him I'm disappointed in him and that I'll see him soon."

"How would I pass on the message if I don't know anything about you?"

"Oh, Molly. You wanted to know my name. It's Sherringford Holmes."

He smiled and disappeared, leaving me speechless.

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**_D.A Smith: _****Couldn't help myself. I have another backstory planned out :D Hope you liked it ****J**** And hope you review, as always.**


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